


Please Don't Leave Me

by Burntblackfeathers



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, One-Sided Enjolras/Grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 10:15:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12106521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burntblackfeathers/pseuds/Burntblackfeathers
Summary: A short response to the prompt: "Please don't leave me"Grantaire awakes on the barricade too late. The war is over and it is up to him to pick up the pieces.





	Please Don't Leave Me

Noise does not rouse a drunken man; silence awakens him. The fall of everything around him only augmented Grantaire’s prostration; the crumbling of all things was his lullaby. The sort of halt which the tumult underwent in the presence of Enjolras was a shock to this heavy slumber. It had the effect of a carriage going at full speed, which suddenly comes to a dead stop. The persons dozing within it wake up. Grantaire rose to his feet with a start, stretched out his arms, stared, yawned, and understood.

The destruction was intense, both of property and of people. In this room lay the remains of all that Grantaire held dear, little though it was. The wood, ripped through with bullets, was interspersed with bodies of the fallen and he stared at each in turn, taking in a shaking breath at the sight of them. Combeferre, Coufeyrac. Both so brilliant, to be lost to this like nothing more than the weapons they held.

Grantaire longed to flee, every muscle in his body straining away from the scene. Still he forced himself forward; they deserved respect in their death and it would not be the National Guard to grant it.

It was then he saw him.

In truth, he had never left his thoughts, only been pushed aside in the hope that this scene would never be realised.

Enjolras.

A sob tore its way from Grantaire, and he went to his knees in front of the fallen leader as if struck by lightning.

“No- no please” His hands, shaking, fluttered along the line of Enjolras’ coat. It’s red hue now taking on another meaning as the blood from twelve bullet holes stained the torn fabric. “Please Enjolras, you can’t- please” 

He cupped one cheek hesitantly, “I’m sorry, please, please don’t leave,” he pushed the hair from his eyes, blond locks sweaty, and let out another sob, “please don’t leave me.”  
The sounds of guards searching for the remaining men fell away, any idea or will to move had dripped out of Grantaire like the tears from his eyes or blood from a wound of his own.

Images of Enjolras danced in his mind, so full of faith and fire as he called the people of Paris to his side. That fire was gone, dying while the rest of Paris slept. The only one at his side now was Grantaire.

Had he woken sooner, would he have been able to prevent this?

He didn’t think so, Grantaire was never able to do anything right for Enjolras. You are incapable of believing, of thinking, of living, and of dying. He laughed, a singular sound that was both humourless and hysterical. 

He couldn’t have helped, could never help, but maybe he could have had a good death. Died for a reason, for him, instead of sleeping through the destruction of his entire world.  
Grantaire was shaking again, but this time with a wave of anger at himself. Useless. He friends fought and died in front of him, for a doomed cause, but one they believed in. And he? The one he believed in was gone and all he could do was cry.

He straightened, and let the hand that still rested in Enjolras’ hair slip down to press his hand. 

“Be easy.”

Then, standing up, he let his hand grasp instead the red flag that had fallen next to Enjolras. He strode to the door, filled with a newfound sense of purpose and, upon looking back at the fallen figure of his Orestes, a soft smile lit his face. The smile was not ended when the shouts of the National guard reached his ears, nor when he called out “Vive le Republique!” He raised his fist, flag in hand, and closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and thank you to Seirian for being the best beta. I have a lot of feelings about these two, and an apparent ineptitude for happy endings.


End file.
